On The Cusp
by AViewerLikeMe
Summary: "Good Anakin, Good! Kill him. Kill him now." Victory shouldn't taste so bland. An AU ROTS Vignette.


_Disclaimer: Nothing is mine but Kalaila. The lyrics at the beginning are from "Somewhere a Clock is Ticking" by Snow Patrol._

 _ø_

 **On The Cusp**

 _I've got this feeling, there's something that I missed_  
 _(I could do most anything to you)_  
 _Don't you breathe, don't you breathe_  
 _(I could do most anything to you)_  
 _Something happened that I never understood_  
 _(I could do most anything to you)_  
 _You can't leave, you can't leave_

 _ø_

"Good Anakin, Good!. . .Kill him. Kill him now."

Victory shouldn't taste so bland.

He is standing with two lightsabers in a red and blue X, the head of his greatest nemesis in between, waiting for the next move, the friend he had come to save cheering him on, his lost arm avenged, his Master defended, the mission complete, and nothing feels like a victory. The Hero With No Fear is many things, but _this_ kind of hateful, _this_ kind of overpowering, is not unbecoming of him. For all his passionate emotions, he does know how to channel the right ones in the most dire circumstances. He would have never made it to Knighthood otherwise.

But it's been three years of battle, and he hasn't seen his wife in six months, and this metal arm isn't the only souvenir he's gotten since the war started, and sometimes, sometimes you just want to _kill_ something or someone or anyone or _everyone!_

And maybe he can almost do it, pull his arm back, slice through flesh and send a head rolling if Dooku would just stop looking at him like that. Like he's just had an epiphany and is trying to share it wordlessly. Like he's afraid _for_ Anakin.

"I shouldn't," Anakin says, more to himself than to Palpatine.

 _"Do it,"_ Palpatine hisses. _Hisses._

The unfamiliar sound freezes Anakin where he stands. There is not an urgency or fear in the Chancellor's voice; there is pure venom. The distinction opens the door to a world of pain. A fog of thoughts and emotions twist his stomach, challenging everything he'd come to know and believe in.

Nothing is as it is supposed to be, he laments. Not since the war. Not since long before. Not ever.

"A-Anakin. . ."

His eyes widen, but he can't turn around, can't take his eyes off Dooku to see if the voice behind him really is his Master's.

" _Anakin,"_ he hears Obi-Wan cough behind him. _"Don't. . .do it. . .don't do it. . ."_

As hoarse as the voice is, the heartbreak is clear. Anakin has never heard such emotion in his Master's voice, much less directed to _him._ The shock of that opens him up through the Force to the bond they have shared for thirteen years.

He sees himself as a child, struggling to move his lightsaber correctly. _Keep your eyes on your opponent, Anakin, let the Force guide your weapon._

He sees himself snuggling into the sheets of Obi-Wan's bed after a nightmare. _Fine, Anakin, but this is the last time._

He sees their first real sparring session. _Very good, my young Padawan!_

He sees one of countless arguments. _You don't ever seem to understand!_

He sees the constant scolding and reprimanding. _You will learn your place!_

He sees the effort his Master has put in, the sleep he's lost, the grey hairs he's earned to make Anakin the most powerful Jedi ever. And now, he feels Obi-Wan's pain as if it's his own, feels his fear and desperation and shock and _love._

"Do it, Anakin!" Palpatine's manic voice rises, shattering the moment, morphing it to reality. A reality where Dooku is still incapacitated, The Chancellor is still in shackles, Obi-Wan is still trapped under debris, and Anakin is still holding a life in his hand.

This isn't victory. This is a turning point. This is a piece of his soul at stake.

With a sharp sound, the lightsabers are deactivated. Anakin keeps a tight grip on the handles in case Dooku tries anything, but the Count is stock-still on his knees, staring at Anakin as if he'd never really seen him before now. He even holds out the stumps of his arms for Anakin to cuff them with no fuss. It unsettles the Hero With No Fear, but he focuses on unshackling Palpatine, who is trying to hide his immense disappointment.

"That was a mistake, Anakin," says Palpatine, his voice back to normal. "He is too dangerous to be kept alive."

Anakin's blood boils. "He is an unarmed prisoner. It is not the Jedi way to kill unarmed prisoners."

"It is only natural. He cut off your arm, you'd want revenge." Palpatine is adjusting is cuffs when he crosses the line. "It would not have bee the first time. . .remember what you told me about your mother and the Sand People?"

Anakin almost bites his tongue by the fore with which he clenches his teeth. He is tempted to show his dear Chancellor what revenge could also look like, but Palpatine brushes past him, already set on escaping.

But there is no escaping without Obi-Wan who has passed out again on the floor. Anakin is almost grateful for it, so his Master can avoid as much pain as possible. Kneeling beside him, Anakin pushes the machinery off Obi-Wan's legs and rolls him over, checking for injuries. His face is sweaty and pale, but-thank the Force-he will not suffer lasting damage.

"Anakin," Palpatine's stern voice calls from the stairs, "there's no time. We must get off this ship before it's too late."

His throat constricts. "He seems to be all right," Anakin counters.

"Leave him, or we'll never make it!"

" _Then we won't make it!"_ the Jedi Knight finally snaps, sending lava-hot glares at his rescue mission. Dooku, who has slowly made his way up the stairs alone, gives Anakin a look similar to appraisal. Palpatine's face was flushed and stammering, and Anakin knows he shouldn't, but he relishes the other's embarrassment, a victory he can savor.

He slings Obi-Wan over his shoulders, picks up his lightsaber, and holds his arm and leg for balance. Palpatine's cheeks are still red. Dooku's mouth is shut. Obi-Wan is mumbling in his sleep. Anakin pushes himself from the floor and up the stairs, gripping on his Master's figure, afraid to drop him to his death. The prospect of facing the Galaxy without Obi-Wan is not an option.

He pushes a button. They wait for the door. Dooku and Palpatine are standing side by side, stiffly, with the air of comrades turned strangers. A niggling suspicion tickles the back of Anakin's mind, but he pushes it away. All that matter is getting out alive. Getting Obi-Wan out alive.

 _Train yourself to let go of everything you fear to lose,_ Master Yoda has taught him. But he never learns.

 _Get out of here! There's nothing more you can do!_ Obi-Wan's warbled voice over the headset demanded. But he'll never leave without him.

Unbidden into his mind comes the memory of Kalaila, and the last words she said to him, a request he can never seem to fulfill.

 _Don't worry. Let go._

Maybe _he_ is the one too dangerous to be kept alive.

…..

A/N: ROTS really is full of all these moments where you yell at the screen like, "WHY DID YOU DO THAT!" This, for me, is one of those moments. At the end, I put in a reference to my other oneshot "Pakskka Palace" where the character Kalaila is from, because it fit into the train of thought about his fear of loss. You can check out that story if you'd like. I hope you enjoyed this oneshot! Feedback is always appreciated.


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